


Dying is an Art: Letters to my Brother

by Jenshih_Blue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s01e12 Faith, Gen, Plothole Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 12:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the events of ‘Faith’ Dean writes a series of letters to Sam in his journal, telling him everything he’s afraid to speak aloud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dying is an Art: Letters to my Brother

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated with all my love to my father Len, who passed away of a massive heart attack at the age of 62 on April 26, 1993. I still feel your protection and presence even after all these years.

_Dying_

 _

Is an art, like everything else.

I do it exceptionally well.

_

 

~ Sylvia Plath, _"Lady Lazarus"_

 

**Journal of Dean Winchester**

_

 

Saturday, April 15, 2006

I’m not good at this sort of thing Sammy…

God I suck at this emo-shit that you seem to thrive on, but being forced to face your own mortality does shit to your brain that you can’t begin to comprehend. Then again maybe you can understand I never know with you. For a guy who always wants to talk out shit you can be close-mouthed as hell sometimes.

You just left here and I’m not ready to go…not really. Yeah, sure our gig its dangerous as all hell and we deal with death every day---just not ours. I’m not sure what made me want to tell you these things, but I just need too, and you know me Sammy. I’m always the hard ass, the big bro’, the protector, I can’t show you how I really feel. The only thing that ever manages to show is those baser emotions. Bet I surprised you with that, you know the whole Psyche 101, college boy crap.

I guess it was that look in your eyes when I finally got the nerve to look you in the eye.

Jesus, Sammy…

Do you think this is any easier for me. I don’t want to see that pain in your eyes, I never have, but every god damn time I turn around there it is. That desperate glittering gaze that bores into my gut like a battering ram or maybe one of Dirty Harry’s bullets. It cuts down deep, straight through all those damn brick walls I’ve been building up since mom died, since Connecticut. It’s like you have this power over me and I’ve never let anyone have that kind of power…not even dad…despite what you think.

God, my hands are shaking so bad. I hate being like this…weak, helpless, and I just want to end it right now. Make it quick and painless.

Does that make me any less of a man?

I just don’t know anymore Sam. I just don’t.

_

 

***

_

Sunday, April 16, 2006

A priest came by today. I guess the hospital has him visit the terminal patients.

Terminal---now there’s an interesting word.

I ask the nurse if she had a dictionary and she looked at me like I’d lost my fucking mind, but she got one any way. I guess she didn’t want to seem to uncaring with the poor young man who’s dying. God I hate the way they look at me! All tea and sympathy, fake smiles, and gentle understanding pats. I swear to God Sammy if one more motherly nurse pats my head I’m going to scream bloody murder.

Anyway where the hell was I…oh, yeah the word terminal. It means basically the end. It also means a device used to make an electrical connection. Now that’s funny Sammy. J

Come on little bro’ I know you’re doing one of two things as you read this---roll your eyes or choke up. Don’t you dare cry over me Sam. Don’t you dare. I’ve had a pretty decent life I guess…not perfect, but I had you and dad…and then there was Cassie, but that’s a whole different can of worms. Don’t know why I never told you about her, but hey that’s what this is for---to tell you all the things I should have.

Back to the priest though.

He was probably dad’s age…I don’t know…I’ve always sucked at that sort of thing. Remember that hot little number just outside Atlanta when I was eighteen. I thought, hell yeah, and then I found out she was fifteen and her daddy carried a shotgun in the back window of his truck. I swear if there was a time I almost ever pissed my pants it was then. I’m so glad he showed up when he did because five minutes later he would have caught me with my hand in her panties.

You teased me for a fucking week afterward you lil’ bitch. J

Jeez, are they sure I didn’t sustain brain damage? I swear I can’t seem to focus for more than two seconds and there are all these words, these thoughts, tumbling through my brain and I don’t know where to begin.

That priest he sat down next to me and asked me if I’d accepted Jesus as my saviour. I laughed so hard I started choking and they had to give me oxygen. When things calmed down he looked at me with these sad dark eyes and asked me why I’d laughed. I told him Jesus was fucking dead and he couldn’t do a damn thing for me. That got an eyebrow raised at me. I told him I was Agnostic or some shit. Don’t you laugh at me Sammy. You know how these fucking holy rollers are sometimes. He was preaching to the choir and I told him I only had faith in myself and my trusty sawed-off shot gun. I think he almost needed oxygen that time.

I think I might have scared him, too. *wink*

Anyway let’s just say Father Holier-than-thou didn’t convert another disciple to the land of Catholicism today.

Shit my hands are shaking again. Can barely hold onto this damn pen and Nurse Helga ‘The Beast’ is here to force a sleeping pill down my throat or some other shit. I guess I got a few more days to tell you what I need too.

I promise I’ll get some rest Sam. Just you know…come by…see me. I know it hurts Sammy, but it’s just part of life.

 

***

 

Monday, April 17, 2006

They told me that you come by when I’m sleeping. Late at night.

What the fuck, Sam?

Don’t you fucking tell me you’re blaming yourself for this Sam. This isn’t your fucking fault, it’s no one’s fault but mine. Jesus H. Christ I’m the idiot that decided to fry that fucking Rawhead with a 100,000 volt tazer while I was sitting my sorry ass in a fucking puddle the size of Lake Michigan.

Don’t do this to yourself…please Sammy…

Ain’t your fault.

Sometimes shit just happens and no matter what you think you’re not God. You can’t stop this and when the time comes just think about one thing. I’ll finally be with mom.

 

***

 

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Look I’m sorry about being so tough on you. I just worry Sam and I have that right---don’t I? I’ve been protecting you since that night we lost mom. I’m your big brother and that’s what big brothers do---protect their lil’ bros.

I’m sitting here in this damn motel room watching you sleep, probably for the first time in three days and all I want to do is…

I don’t know what I want to do. Jesus it hurts Sam…hurts to breathe…hurts to watch you like this. So damn desperate and needy. You can’t kill yourself like this Sam, you just can’t. I’m dying and I’ve accepted that. Doesn’t mean I’m not scared, cause I am Sam, I’m scared shitless.

This is insane this idea of yours that you can stop the fucking grim reaper. It’s my time and the sooner you accept that lil’ bro the easier it’ll be when I’m gone. Just promise me one thing Sam. Promise me you’ll cremate me…I don’t want to be trapped here. I want to pass on to whatever is out there. I don’t want to be trapped by your grief or my anger.

You’re right Sam. This ain’t right, but what am I supposed to do? Argue with God? Seems that he wants me gone from this world and who am I to argue with that? I’m just a man Sam…just a normal human man and I know that you wished…

I know I was Superman to you when you were little, but I’m not Sammy. I break just like all men. I hurt…and sometimes I even love when I shouldn’t. Sometimes I love and desire the kind of things I have no right too. Maybe that’s why I’m dying now. Maybe this is my punishment for wanting something so sick and twisted.

Just remember Sammy…I love you, dude.

 

***

 

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

You’re a stubborn bastard---you know that Sam?

I can’t believe I’m caving into you like this. Well on second thought maybe I do. You always could just give me that look and I melted into a puddle of goo.

Remember when we were in Nashville? Guess you were maybe five or six and dad had given use five bucks each. Told us to put it in our pockets and we could buy anything we wanted---comics, candy, whatever. You kept playing with that money and you lost it. All you did was give me that look, all big wet puppy eyes, and I handed you mine. Told you not to cry and everything would be okay.

I just want you to know that it’s going to be okay now.

I wish I could tell you why I fucked up in Arkansas. Why this happened. I’m not even sure I know why. It’s just been so hard to keep up appearances Sammy. I had to be strong for you back in Connecticut. I knew how much you blamed yourself for what happened and I didn’t want you to suffer anymore.

Jesus…Sam…I just wanted you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I wanted you safe, happy, and loved. I knew I could keep you safe. I thought I might be able to make you happy, but I couldn’t make you feel loved. What I felt for you…what I’m feeling for you right now…it’s not right Sam. It can’t be right.

I guess I’ll never know though---will I? God is punishing me, but why does it have to hurt you too? Why couldn’t I have just died back in Arkansas? Why couldn’t it just end in a crackle of electricity.

Why did you have to save me just so you could watch me die?

 

***

 

Thursday, April 20, 2006

I know you’ve been watching me like a hawk since we left Arkansas. Every fucking breath I take, every whimper of pain (not that I whimper), or every flinch of muscle. Sammy you have to let me go...you have too. If I had any faith I’d pray to God to let me go while I was sleeping all peaceful and shit, then you could do what you had too. There wouldn’t be all this fucking waiting and none of this desperate anguish in your eyes.

If I wasn’t dying already I’d die from this. Watching you toss and turn. Watching you cry out my name in your sleep while tears streaked your face.

My heart is breaking Sam. Didn’t know I had one did you lil’ bro’?

Well, I do, but I’ve just kept it hidden away. You can’t let yourself care this much. A hunter has to be cool, calm, not ruled by his emotions. Dad taught us that. He was right, but I could never just be cool and calm when it came to you Sammy. Never with you so I learned to hide how I felt. Learned how to block it out the best I could, but it was never enough. Every time I saw you in pain it cracked that shell just a bit more.

When Jess died back in Palo Alto I thought I’d go mad with the need to hold you. To tell you it would be okay even if it was a lie. When we went back to Lawrence, that night when that damn poltergeist had you down, choking the life from you, the desperation almost did me in.

Then when you walked away in Indiana...

God, Sammy I can’t leave this way without telling you the one thing I need to tell you. That one thing is too difficult to tell you though, even writing it down hurts. You see if I wrote it down here in these pages then it would make it too damn real.

Too real and too fucking true.

Forgive me, Sammy. Forgive me for leaving you all alone like this...for not telling you how I really feel.

 

***

 

Friday, April 21, 2006

I can’t believe this...

Something’s not right. You found a way to save me, but it just doesn’t feel right. I’m still so damn cold Sam. You left a few minutes ago to go get food, left me tangled in a pile of blankets. Left me with that wide eyed terrified look you always have when you just can’t quite believe something has happened---something good.

You should be scared Sam.

I haven’t told you the truth yet.

The feeling of that raw, bitter cold that seeped down into the marrow of my bones or the man. That desiccated old man in black who stood just a few feet from LeGrange---the one no one else saw, but me. Of course you wouldn’t have noticed.

All I remember is that cold and there was a moment when my damaged heart stopped and my lungs refused to bring in air. The room faded and I had this moment of ‘oh, my God this is it’ and then I heard you screaming my name begging me to say something. That’s when the cold began to fade and my heart began to beat again. I remember sucking in that first huge lung-full of air and I saw him---staring down at me.

That’s when I knew it was all wrong.

That’s when I knew I hadn’t been saved by your faith, but by something far darker.

I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow Sammy. I know you won’t rest until you know for sure, but I can’t accept this. People aren’t just healed for no reason. There’s a balance in the universe and for every death there is a life and vice versus. I hope I’m wrong Sammy. I hope for one time in my life I’m wrong.

 

***

_

Dean pulled over the car and Sam turned to him with a questioning look.

"You okay?"

Shaking his head, Dean shifted the Impala into park and set the emergency brake, popping the trunk. With shaking hands he pushed open the driver’s side door and stumbled out into the misty rain, the chill setting into his bones. Making his way to the back of the car he leaned over, his hands pressed into his aching knees and vomited in the ditch. His ribs ached, his stomach contracted, and his heart screamed in fury.

"Dean?"

He glanced up to see Sam standing by the passenger door, a look of fear in his eyes. "I’m okay, Sam…just need a minute. Give me a minute."

With a quick sharp nod Sam settled down in the passenger seat again, his long legs stretched out and his head bowed. Dean knew Sam didn’t believe him, but he had to do one last thing before they returned to the motel. Lifting the hood he grabbed his bag and pulled out his private journal. With shaking hands he opened it and tore out the last seven entries he’d made and then shoved the journal back in the bag. Grabbing a bottle of lighter fluid he jumped the ditch and headed out into the dark field.

"Dean?!" Sam yelled. "What the fuck is going on, dude?!"

Without stopping Dean yelled over his shoulder. "I told you give me a damn minute! I’ll be right back---okay?!"

He walked until the headlights of the Impala were a distant glow and he found a puddle of rain. Twisting the pages tightly together he soaked them with lighter fluid, tucked the bottle into his jacket pocket, and then tugged the Zippo out of his jeans. He stood there for a moment in the darkness staring down at what was basically the past seven days of his life and cursed inwardly.

Right at this moment he hated the fact Sam had been so quick on his feet. If he’d just been a bit slower, then the reaper could have finished it. Wiped all the darkness and pain away and given Layla back her life in one smooth movement. Instead he was left to suffer it all and Layla, so sweet and beautiful, would die without any hope and he would be haunted by her for the rest of this unnatural life the reaper had bestowed upon him.

Taking a deep breath he flipped open the Zippo, its golden flame blue tinted in the darkness, and lit the twisted paper. He watched as the flames grew and licked at the paper, washing over him in a flickering amber glow, highlighting each angle and plane of his face. He held on until the flames threatened to burn his fingers and then he dropped it into the puddle. The flames continued to consume the paper until it was turned to bitter grey ash and then they slowly sank into the murky water until nothing remained, but ash and barely glowing embers.

Dean released the breath he’d been holding and turned back to where Sam stood at the edge of the field, waiting patiently, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, and his shoulders slumped. The overhead light of the Impala glowed behind him like a halo of pure silver and Dean sighed softly, thinking how beautiful of a man his little brother had grown into. Swiping the tears from his cheeks as he trudged through the muddy field Dean knew Sam could never know.

Sam could never know the truth.

He could never know Dean desired him the way only one lover desired another.

Mind, body, and soul.[  
](http://www.serverlogic3.com/lm/rtl3.asp?si=22&k=body%20and%20soul)

It had to remain hidden and consigned to the darkness. Carried away on the cold Nebraska wind like bitter ash and glowing embers.

 

~Finis~


End file.
